Sexy Tears

If everything could ever feel this real forever
If anything could ever be this good again
The only thing I'll ever ask of you
You've got to promise not to stop when I say when

Everyone in the basement was crowded around the screen and the four performers on the toy instruments, a boisterous drunken gang choir singing along to Foo Fighters. It was a gamer party thrown on campus. Bonnie had never been to one before. Even though she and Gwen were still in the twelfth grade, they'd gotten the invite from Gwen's older brother Derek. Different rooms had different things going on. Upstairs in the front were three big screens of just Mario and Mario Kart. One of the bedrooms had some kind of table top tanks and planes and dice rolling. Another had two VR headsets that people took turns strapping on and wandering around swinging their arms like zombies to uproarious laughter. She'd also heard that on the top floor was a wall projection with car controls - steering wheel and pedals - that one could sit down at and race cars. It was the backyard where the serious nerd business was. Real duels with armor and wooden shields and fake swords and axes were being held. It was some sort of tournament with pennants and bowing and M'Lords and everything. It was quite ridiculous.

"Here you go. Have another," said Gwen as she sat down next to Bonnie and handed her a beer. Bonnie wasn't exactly thin herself but her honey-haired friend was a big girl. Appropriately for the party, Gwen wore a large pink t-shirt with Ms Pac Man across her ample boobs, which she kept packed into a black lace bra beneath. She knotted the slack of the shirt at her hip over her stretchy black skirt.

"How many is this now?" Bonnie asked. She was quite drunk herself. "Four or five?" Bonnie tipped the beer to her lips and drank. Her face was round with pale skin and a doll's nose. Her brunette hair was soft and pulled into a ponytail with her bangs resting on her brow above dark shiny brown eyes. Little gold stars adorned her earlobes. She wore a red and copper plaid shirt open and tied beneath her full bust over a black sport tank, exposing her pudgy midriff that bulged at the studded belt around the waist of her loose fit jeans.

"I lost track at six," said Gwen. "Who cares? Get fucked up." Bonnie blushed and dimples formed as she smiled.

The smile was short-lived when Jordy walked in. Jordy had dumped her two months previously and Bonnie hadn't taken it well. It had crushed her. She cried on his doorstep for an hour when it happened. He said that he needed space. He would call. Then he never did. He hadn't even replied to any of her texts. The year that she had given him had meant nothing. It was bad enough just to see him there across the room, smiling, laughing, the blonde waves of his hair calling her fingers to touch it, but what was worse was the bitch hanging on his arm. Sienna Stoddardt was hopelessly gorgeous. Bonnie had to do a double take. She had no idea that the two were together. How long had they been a thing? Had he left her for that skank? Sienna was on the cheer team at school, was tall thin and a natural blonde with straight hair hanging nearly to her waist. All the guys gawked at her and she knew it too. Her dress was nothing more than a jade green slip, and although her breasts were very small, no bra straps showed and her nipples clearly poked at the fabric. Only a thin black cardigan hanging from her shoulders kept any sort of modesty. Bonnie turned aside and tried to blink away her sudden tears.

"What is it?" asked her friend. "Oh never mind, I see," she said. Gwen put a gentle hand on her shoulder. "You need to get over him," she said. It had to be the millionth time that she had given the same piece of advice, but no matter how softly she put it, it didn't help. "Just forget him. Move on. Hey, there are lots of guys here tonight."

"It's not so easy," Bonnie sniffed. "Why is he here?" she asked. "Who invited him? And why is he with her?"

"Hey, we're at a party," Gwen encouraged as she wiped Bonnie's wet cheeks with her hand. "Drink up. Have fun."

"Gwen, come play!" someone called.

"Why me?" she called back. "I'm terrible."

"We all suck," the guy called back. It was Manny with his sideburns and his rolled up sleeves. He waved her over. "And we're all drunk as fuck. Come play. We need a drummer."

Gwen stood up and walked into the center and the group made way for her to sit at the drums. The next song tarted and Bonnie recognized Are You Gonna Be my Girl by Jet.

"Oh my God, this one is hard!" Gwen protested in laughter.

"That's what she said!"

"Just take the sticks and shake them," someone quipped to a round of snickering.

Without her friend to distract her, Bonnie couldn't help but look across to the other corner of the room. Jordy and Sienna were talking with some guy that she didn't know. As they turned to face him she caught a perfect view of each of their palms on each other's asses. Fresh tears flowed. Once she was able to wipe them and look up again, the friend was gone and the two of them were kissing. It wasn't just a sweet peck. It was a deep slow open-mouthed tongue churning kiss.

So one two three take my hand and come with me
because you look so fine
and I really wanna make you mine

It was too much. Bonnie got to her feet and with her head down scurried from the room. She needed to be alone. Passing the staircase, she looked for the bathroom. There was a guy standing waiting for it so she thought about continuing on but just then a girl stepped out and he entered, leaving Bonnie alone in the hallway. She backed herself to the wall and spread her fingers over her face in shame as she waited for the privacy of the bathroom.

Wandering aimlessly amongst their fellow partygoers, the pair of friends and teammates had yet to decide on where to focus their inebriated attention. This dilemma in no way included the women already present and accounted for. They noticed the eye candy far before any of the various games on offer. That same eye candy, after all, was a game unto itself.

“Think I just fuckin’ died and went to heaven, Mac,” declared Kyle Fischer. “Man, this is such a target-rich environment.” The “Mac” being referenced was Andrew MacIsaac, and he had an observation of his own.

“Did you just quote Maverick from Top Gun?” His companion for the evening scowled in reply, almost daring him to continue. “That’s pretty cheesy, Fish, even for you.” Grinning maniacally, he sipped from his beer.

Andrew smirked at him dubiously, adding, “Classic?! Get real, man! Take out the jets and you got nothin’.”

Kyle, however, would not be refuted. “That was an awesome love story, too. I’m glad my mom turned me on to it way back when.” Truly, Andrew wondered if his friend was just drinking beer or something much stronger.

“Fine,” he finally said. “You take out Kelly McGillis, and now you got nothin’.” Kyle maintained his stubbornness, vigorously shaking his head in disagreement. His friend smiled evilly, then proclaimed, “Oh, right, right, right. Your favorite part was what, the volleyball scene? No, wait! In the locker room!” Since Kyle had been in mid-swig, he spat a portion of his beer out, equally laughing and choking as he did so.

Composure and breath regained, Kyle stated, “Quit being such a dick, Mac. Damn!” Both friends laughed as they “clinked” their plastic cups.

Until Andrew couldn’t help himself any longer. “I feel the need,” he said with an exaggerated swagger, “I feel the need, to spread some seed!” With that, he drained his cup as he looked for possible refill spots.

“That’s NOT what he said!” Kyle snapped, as the fanboy was clearly agitated.

“Yeah, but he shoulda, since it’s a way better line,” Andrew responded with a wink.

“Man, if we were at practice right now, I would so drop the gloves and pound your fuckin’ head into the ice,” he spewed menacingly, yet also with gobs of humor.

A sniff and an unnecessary twitch of his nose, Andrew offered, “If it’s anything like the way you play defense, I’m not too concerned.”

“Fucker!”

Not a good idea. With controllers in hand, a few co-eds looked their way, seemingly annoyed, following Kyle’s explicit outburst. Choirgirls. Must be. The teammates drunkenly smiled while staring at each other. Silently agreeing to move along, both exited the room. Why they had stopped in a room with all things Mario was beyond them. A lack of blood splatters on-screen was hugely disappointing. Shooters FTW! That was lockdown-agreed upon between the two, as they had competed together as a team in local tournaments. Best ever finish? Sixth place! Hell yeah! Out of, um six teams. Anyways.

Refills, um, having been refilled, Kyle suggested, “Let’s head to the basement, man. Only good things happen in basements.”

“Only you would know, Mongoloid Joe,” he teased as Kyle flipped him a major bird. Actually, it was a double-major-bird. Just beyond the stairs, they unhurriedly breezed past a brunette holding up a wall. An attractive brunette, at that, Andrew thought, appreciating her major rack and other delectable curvature. The expression she wore, however, all but screamed she wasn’t having a good time. His observation of the young woman did not pass undetected, as he was on the receiving end of a sharp elbow to his ribs. Soon, he’d have to inquire about that rude nudge.

Now this was more in line with Andrew’s list of likes as opposed to dislikes, as the hallway opened up to the subterranean room. The speakers were pumping out for the listeners some seriously awesome music. What wasn’t so awesome was the four individuals flailing helplessly as if caught in an invisible net of being puppets. Puppets to the music game! He acknowledged their bravado, and respectfully clapped in between performances. Sucking at it would be top of the list if he was to do the same. So more power to them!

“So what was that poke to the chops for, amigo?” Andrew asked.

“Gimme a break, man. I saw you checking out that babe near the bathroom,” Kyle replied, annoyed that the answer wasn’t already completely obvious. “Leave her be, bro. She’s bad news, trust me.”

Following a healthy chug from his plastic cup, he snorted and just had to know. “How in the hell might you possibly know that? You recognize her or something?”

A head shake after his own swig, Kyle said, “Nope, never saw her before a little while ago. But here’s the thing. Look around you, at everyone else in this room.” Andrew did as instructed, not seeing any correlation between the two. He shrugged without a word. “Would you agree that everyone in this room, right now, is having a good time?” An irritated nod later, and Kyle made his point. “Well, that chick back there ain’t having a good time. You could see it on her teary face.”

Andrew stood there, contemplating what to do next. Being friends since high school, Kyle picked up on the vibe almost immediately. “Man, don’t you go all White Fucking Knight on me!” The so-called WFK just laughed. Kyle shook his head in feigned defeat, and then said, “Hurry up, get it over with already. I’ll wait for you. Dumb ass.”

Laughing again, Andrew rapped on his friend’s right shoulder, grabbing a few napkins from a nearby table. The brunette was still in the hall, not doing any better from the first time they passed her. Geez, what the hell was that person doing in the bathroom?! he disturbingly thought. It might be in her best interests to NOT be next. Approaching her, she was still wrapped up in her own thoughts and emotions as she never glanced his way.

Now within arm’s reach, he held out the napkins to her and stated, “Hello. You, uh, might have a need for these before you get in there.” She accepted his offering, with a muffled “Thank you.” Best allow her some semblance of privacy, as he spun on his heels and returned to Kyle. “I just gave her the napkins, man,” he explained.

“You’re fucking hopeless,” Kyle accused, albeit with a wicked grin planted on his face. “So check it out. What do you think of the chick across the way? The one in the green outfit.” Adjusting his focus, he looked where Kyle was looking, until the object of his friend’s fascination (read: horniness!) pulled into view.

Frowning, Andrew spat, “What, the blonde?! Nah, too fuckin’ skinny. And in case you hadn’t noticed, she’s with that dude.”

Shaking his head in pure disbelief, with an expression of someone having just punted his puppy across a city block, Kyle proclaimed, “Not only are you an idiot, but you’re also a blind fucking idiot!” A thought dawned on him, as he shifted gears. “Whoa, whoa, so tell me this. Are you saying you’d choose the crybaby brunette over that blonde goddess?” At blonde goddess, he nodded her way, as if Andrew required help in determining who he was referring to.

“Oh, fuck yeah, man! In a heartbeat. Take away her tears, and you gotta admit she was pretty hot. I’d gladly ride my sportsbike around those curves!” Kyle nodded in agreement, but said nothing. “Besides, my actual goalie stick has more meat on it than your skinny-ass blonde goddess.” Kyle appeared to be on the brink of throwing a major hissy fit. Instead, they both laughed, clearly having way-too-good-a time.

Comfortable seating now secured via a just-vacated couch, they sat and soaked up the party atmosphere with brand new refreshments in hand. Andrew was digging on the music the most, appreciating the efforts from the pseudo-rock stars, while simultaneously attempting to Name That Tune! Everyone seemed to be having fun, which was the whole point. Kyle, on the other hand, shoulda been an owl, as his head swiveled whichever way the “tasty treats” were headed.

Two guys came down the stairs to join the fray. Their chatter reflected their good spirits and Bonnie felt like the only one in the house not having a good time. She cowered to hide her tears. The guys passed by and headed for the shouting and hooting from the 'rock band' in the room.

"Ah! You just wanted me to play drums to watch my boobs bounce! Haha you creepies!" It was Gwen's exuberant voice. Then there was an uproar of laughter.

"Gwen! Gwen! Gwen!"

Then there was napkin held out to her. She accepted it and thanked the hand that offered, but on the inside she was even more embarrassed. It was the girls who were supposed to be slow in the bathroom, but this guy was taking forever. She didn't want to know what he might be doing, but if he wasn't coming out, she would have to find another hiding spot, perhaps leave the house altogether. She wasn't ready to wade through the crowd to find the exit yet however, so she moved a few feet to the end of the hall. There was a door. It was closed, but as she tested the handle she could hear voices behind it, playful laughter muffled through the woodwork.

Just then, the guy exited the bathroom and she headed straight for it and locked the door behind her. Bonnie was concerned that it he'd been in there that long that he it might smell, but it was fine. The room smelled more like beer than anything else. It was small with a tiny counter and a stand up shower stall with sliding glass. She sat on the toilet and let her tears flow.

Jordy had moved on, and moved on well. He'd scored the big prize, Sienna Stoddardt, while Bonnie was all alone, a nobody, an empty shell. She wasn't needed or wanted at all. She had meant nothing to him. It was her worst fear come true.

She decided that she would go home. Bonnie was too embarrassed now to stay, and she certainly didn't need to hang around to see the hot couple getting all lovey-dovey. She would wait until her tears stopped, then clean herself up and just go. Gwen would certainly be fine without her and she could send her a text once she was out of the house.

After a couple of minutes, the door knob rattled and there was a knock. Then there was some laughter, a guy and a girl. Bonnie stood, took a deep breath and checked herself in the mirror. Her lashes were a little bit mucky but other than that she didn't look as bad as she feared. There were no towels anywhere, so she tore off a few squares of TP and wiped herself. Then she took another calming breath and was ready to go.

When she pushed open the bathroom door she was face to face with Sienna. The two of them were wide-eyed in shock for a split second. Then over her shoulder she saw Jordy. He quickly bowed his head and the two of them passed into the bathroom and shut the door - together.

Bonnie needed no imagination to figure out what they were going to do in there. The moment that the door closed, she burst back into tears. She'd been stabbed in the heart. Covering her face with her palm, she peered between her fingers for somewhere to hide. Her plan to leave quietly was in ruins. To the left was the rock band party. She swayed to the right only to find the closed bedroom door. Staggering forward, she slumped against the opposite wall and sobbed. She couldn't stay there. Bonnie couldn't bear the thought of one or both of them coming out of the bathroom to see her like that, but there was nowhere to hide. In desperation, she headed for the stairs. Halfway up she was out of sight of either floor, so she sat in the step and huddled against the wall. Perhaps this spot would give her refuge long enough to calm herself for her exit. She would try again.

Gwen. That was the girl’s name on drums, and lots of fanfare was being hurled her way. Though clearly not for her drumming skills. Rather, her jiggling breasts was quite the fan favorite. There was a whole lotta breast, and there was a whole lotta jiggling. That’s just the way things always managed to work itself out. Kyle and Andrew were just as guilty as the rest of the pervs who were enjoying a scene of nature at its best. Forget the lioness tracking the wildebeest. This was where it was at! Suck on that, Animal Planet!

“So where’d you disappear to?” Andrew asked. “That was one epic piss, unless you were standing in line waiting. Couldn’t, uh, help but notice you left shortly after your bony blonde goddess exited the room with her hunky.” As extra credit, he nudged his right shoulder.

What was this? No nasty retort from Kyle, defending his bony blonde goddess? Something was amiss. “Naw, man. Yeah, I followed her, was even gonna hit on her. Until they went into the bathroom.” He sighed in exasperation. “I mean, what’s that asshole got that I don’t?!” Kyle asked, totally flummoxed.

They went into the bathroom? What the fuck did that mean? Andrew wondered, until it finally came home to roost in his plastered brain. At Kyle’s question, he definitely had the answer. “Ooo, I know! I know!” Andrew enthusiastically announced. Visual daggers were launched his way, compliments of Kyle. “He’s not you,” he casually stated.

Eyeing each other in a drunken stalemate, they broke down in laughter, almost as if on cue. “Why you such a cocksucker tonight, man?” Kyle asked, still laughing.

“Dunno, man. Must be the beer. The intoxicating fragrances. The randomly selected tunes from the video game,” he answered. Distracted, he glanced toward the ass-kicking “band” members. Green Light! “And let’s not forget,” he slurred, “Gwen and her ginormous gazongas.”

Although agreeing, Kyle, unfortunately, had more to add. “Almost forgot, my man. Saw your girl again. She’s on the staircase now. At her pace, she won’t reach the fuckin’ front door until tomorrow.” He laughed, with a healthy pull from his cup as just reward.

Frowning with wheels turning, just not as efficiently or as productively as before all those demon beers, Andrew asked, “My girl? Who’s my girl?”

Though he was not doing much better, Kyle sneered in response, “Seriously? The brunette chick we passed in the hall. Still dunno why you just didn’t ask if you could grab her ample ass and motor-boat her tits. She probably woulda said yes, too. Man, the one you went all fucking Hero-With-A-Cape on for.”

Confused, Andrew stammered, “Cape? You said I was a White Fucking Knight.” An eye roll and almost spilling his beer, Kyle was primed to hit the launch buttons.

And then White Zombie’s More Human Than Human blasted through the speakers. And once again, to much applause, Gwen tested and even mocked the Richter Scale.

Bonnie could hear the laughter winding its way down the hall and up the staircase. Distinctly, she could make out Gwen's cackle amongst the music and shouts. She had always loved attention. It made her so fun to hang out with, as Bonnie could live vicariously through her without being so boisterous herself. What was growing more and more clear were voices at the foot of the stairs. She could tell how close they were since they spoke at a normal level. They were crowding at the bathroom door.

"What's going on in there?" a girl asked.

"Dunno," some guy answered. "Someone's taking their sweet time." Bonnie knew. Jordy was taking his sweet time with Sienna. That's what was going on in there. Just when she thought she may have been ready to muster the courage to make her exit, fresh tears flowed. She'd have to start over, and the napkin that she'd been handed was pretty much soaked through and smudged with mascara. Another couple descended the staircase hand in hand. Bonnie cowered away from them, desperate to hide her humiliation. She had no idea how she was going to get out of this.

"What are you doin' in there? Jerkin' off?" a guy called through the bathroom door while a fist thumped on it. "We need to use the can!"

“Oh?” Andrew amusingly asked. A friendly glance at three nearby co-eds and two guys resulted in giggles and nods from the women, while the men raised their cups in salute. Or was it in derision?

“Aw shit,” muttered Kyle.

“S’right, man. Not too many pictures were taken,” teased Andrew. A look of sheer horror and his friend was laughing again. “Here’s your brew back, too. Was afraid you’d spill it on yourself, or worse, on me. And at least you didn’t drool.” Kyle just sat there while shaking his head, pulling from his cup, middle finger extended.

Standing and stretching his 6’4” frame, Andrew ran a hand back and forth over his buzz-cut brown hair. Wearing that goalie mask was bad enough. A thick head of hair would only increase the unpleasant sweatiness. Plus, it always took him awhile to get through an entire container of shampoo. He smoothed out his navy blue Henley, while brushing away non-existent crumbs from the concrete-colored slacks he wore. Coach always insisted team members should dress respectably when in the public eye, and not look like slobs. You’re not only representing your school, he reminded them, but you’re also representing your teammates, so show some pride.

Andrew then informed his buddy, “I gotta take a leak, man. And from what I’m hearing, lotta people been bitching about the nearby bathroom being occupied. And it’s been that way for a while now. Don’t even wanna think about what’s going on in there. Seen your bony goddess lately? Just wondering.” A wink later and he was on his way.

Stairs in view, there was still a gaggle of partyers on the wrong side of the bathroom door. Sporadic knocks mixed with pleadings resulted in no response from within. Shaking his head, Andrew was three steps up, and there she was, the crying brunette from earlier. Her open plaid shirt and black sport tank perfectly framed her generous rack. It looked as if she’d been crying again, as he noticed the napkins he handed her, now a useless wad.

Ignoring common sense, he moved closer to her. “Sorry for, er, bugging ya, but I couldn’t help but notice, twice now,” Andrew stammered. He was feeling no pain thanks to the copious amounts of beer consumption, but he was also feeling like a 7th-grader asking a girl out to the first school dance of the year. Good thing, then, that the alcohol dulled whatever nervousness he was experiencing. For the most part, anyway. The Kyle-anointed FWK was hopeful of just one detail: that he was coherent enough for her to understand him.

“And, uh, that not only do you appear to be alone,” he struggled, wondering why he was seeing two of her. “But you also seem, uh, seem (Focus! Don’t derail this train now!), to be the only one here not having a good time.” Sentences needed to be shortened if it was gonna take this much effort, and he knew it, too. “So, um, so I’m not sure if you’d rather go somewhere else or outside or. . . .” That train was surely now off the tracks! “Maybe you need an ear to nibble on,” he offered, trying to recover. Whoa, back up! That didn’t sound right. “Uh, that’s not what I, um, meant. I actually meant an ear to talk to.” It would probably be in his best interests to quit while he was ahead.

Andrew smiled at her, at least he hoped he was smiling, thankful for the wall that was holding up his sorry ass. His pale-green eyes gleamed in the staircase’s lighting. “And, y’know, if I’m, uh, getting on your nerves or anything,” he mumbled, wondering where in the fuck was Kyle when you really needed him. “Feel free to tell me to, um, bugger off and I will, too.” There, was that so difficult?

"Sorry for, er, bugging ya, but I couldn't help but notice, twice now. And, uh, that not only do you appear to be alone. But you also seem, uh, seem, to be the only one here not having a good time."

She had tried to cower further as he walked past up the steps but then he had stopped to kneel, just for her. Humiliation consumed her chest. When he had mentioned seeing her twice, she knew that it was the guy that had handed her the tissue. She was not having a good time, that much was true. Thank you, Mr Obvious, but she didn't need the point driven home, even if he didn't mean to. She was trying not to be noticed and yet he was noticing everything about her, all the embarrassing things that she was failing to hide. It was another of her faults. He went on about ears, things about them that didn't make sense, but that was probably for the better since she was not in any mood for decoding.

Bonnie held up a palm in humiliation, and turtled her shaking head behind the other. She was sure that he meant well, but she just wanted a protective shell, something impermeable to all the passing eyes.

I can't feel my face when I'm with you
but I love it, but I love it, oh
I can't feel my face when I'm with you
but I love it, but I love it, oh

Andrew swallowed, her silence confirming that this was a lousy idea. Thankfully, his plastic cup was nearly full, so at least he had some tasty brew to drown his sorrows. Sorrows? What sorrows? The only thing his muddled head could come up with was that this fine hottie wasn’t talking to him. Then again, she wasn’t talking to anyone, so at least there was some consolation in that.

From his perspective, there were three viable options, all pining to be the one chosen. The first and easiest, of course, was to just take the hint and leave her to her own devices. Next up was to keep talking to her, and pray that he didn’t make an ass out of himself. Well, any more than he had already accomplished.

Andrew found it difficult to maintain an obviously lopsided “conversation.” And he hated hearing himself speak, but especially with no response from at least one other person. With absolutely no usable input from her, what was there for him to talk to her about? He could always tell her about the frustrations of his role as backup goaltender for his school’s hockey team. Nah, that idea fuckin’ sucked. She probably hated sports anyway.

Third and final choice was to just sit there and neither do, nor say anything. Since the staircase was of the wide variety, there was enough of a gap between them for people to easily pass by. Where was the harm in keeping her company? Andrew ignored the fact that she never asked for his company in the first place. A few guys high-fived him in passing, having recognized him from the hockey team.

“I’m Andrew, by the way,” he said, followed by a healthy swig. He smiled, as the sounds of music and laughter from the pseudo rock band and onlookers could be heard from here.

Bodies passed between them on the stairs and voices exchanged pleasantries. She could tell that he was still there.

"I'm Andrew, by the way."

He was only trying to be nice and she was being rude to him. She had to throw something his way. She owed him.

"I'm sorry," she whimpered. "I don't mean to be a bitch," she said as she wiped her face with the back of her hand. "Bonnie," she offered quietly, almost choking. She wasn't sure if he could make out her words over the noise but she was doing the best that she could. Still leaning her temple against the wall, she flicked her dark brown eyes his way very briefly before her shame retracted them and the corner of her mouth stretched into the briefest smile in reflex to hide her embarrassment. Even through the watery veil, she could tell that Andrew was attractive. His hair was dark and short. His features were strong. It reddened her even more to be at her worst in front of someone hot.

Lost in his own little world, Andrew mulled over the possibilities of the upcoming weekend. There was a game on Sunday, so that was something to look forward to. He wasn’t sure if the coach would tap him for the start, but with hockey, as any other sport, an athlete was just one play, one injury away from being shelved for the season. Preparedness was key. Game days always took up a chunk of the day, with the team breakfast and lunch automatically scheduled, followed by a pre-skate and then the game itself. So that day was pretty much shot. Win or lose, it was a given that a few teammates would go out for pizza or something. Winning, of course, had a tendency to enhance that pizza’s flavor.

There was also that paper he had ignored long enough. Sadly, it wouldn’t write itself. He just needed to plant himself in front of his laptop and get busy. At least he was pleased with the subject matter. He’d better be, since he chose it. The paper was a case study about people who stuttered and how they dealt with the speech impediment throughout their lives. With the assistance of a local stuttering support group, Andrew met some amazing people who willingly agreed to talk to him about it, contributing to his paper. He insisted on conducting their interviews face-to-face (he’d read enough of the phone being a despised hurdle amongst stutterers), and the eight individuals loved him for that. Three interviews were
already. . . .

"I'm sorry," she whimpered. "I don't mean to be a bitch." Apparently, Bonnie was her name. At least that’s what she offered.

Eh? What’s this? There was life on Mars, after all? Andrew slowly turned her way, just in case someone else had uttered those words of introduction. Nope, it was indeed her.

“Good to meet you, Bonnie, and I don’t think you’re being a bitch,” he said, hoping he sounded somewhat convincing. “I’m just sorry I caught you on a, um, bad day.”

Now armed with a name, he wondered why Bonnie was in such a sorry state. She was at a party, fer cryin’ out loud, and everyone was having a good time. Well, not counting those people still waiting for the downstairs bathroom to open up, anyway. No one, and Andrew knew of absolutely no one who came to a party in tears. So something must’ve happened while she was here. He wasn’t gonna be that guy and ask her, as it clearly was none of his business.

Still, she appeared to be in dire need of more tissue, at the very least. So he asked her, “Can I get you anything, Bonnie? It’s no problem at all.”

"Good to meet you, Bonnie, and I don't think you're being a bitch. I'm just sorry I caught you on a, um, bad day."

"Pfft," she almost chuckled at her own heartache. "Bad day, bad week, bad life." As much as she shrugged, her misery would not fall from her shoulders.

"Can I get you anything, Bonnie? It's no problem at all."

She really couldn't blame him. Andrew was being quite sweet, but facing anyone - even a close friend who would understand, like Gwen - was quite unthinkable.

Just then there was aloud cheer below as the crowd at the bathroom door parted for the two love birds. Jordy led Sienna through the crowd and up the stairs, arm in arm, hands on each other's asses. As he passed, Jordy spotted his ex in her tears, his face expressionless and unfeeling. Then for just a split-second, Sienna peered down her nose at her as well. The look told all. She knew the pain that Bonnie was in and exactly why, and there was no remorse. For Bonnie the moment was prolonged agony and as soon as he was out of sight, she buried her face in her knees and knotted up in fresh uncontrollable sobs.

Bonnie thought she had been lovable, but it had all been a lie. No one would ever touch her, hold her, covet her, make love to her again. As absurd as it seemed, she just couldn't imagine otherwise. Her heart was desolate.

Well, the good news was that Bonnie offered up a few more syllables. The bad news was that she was still down on herself. Baby steps and little victories and yada-yada. And just as the situation was progressing positively, it all took a turn for the worse following a smattering of applause.

At first, Andrew thought the rousing cheer was for the make-believe rock band performing a rousing rendition of The B-52’s Love Shack. Until he realized it was because of the inhabitants of the downstairs bathroom finally exiting the coveted room. As the pompous pair made their way up the stairs, both male and female looked down upon Bonnie, as if they knew her. Only the guy bothered to glance in Andrew’s direction.

Miss Hot Stuff, on the other hand, focused solely on the stricken woman. He recognized her from downstairs, Kyle’s bony blonde goddess. If they’d been fucking in the bathroom, as suspected, Andrew was surprised the dude didn’t snap her skinny ass in half. The expression on her face was of unadulterated disdain, as if Bonnie had single-handedly strangled a litter of kittens. The bony bitch’s kittens, at that. Geez, he thought, who in the hell pissed in her Froot Loops?

The couple having passed the seated pair on the stairs, Bonnie had held out long enough, as she once again burst into tears. While she revisited her teary torture with her face in her knees, Andrew stood and made a quick exit up the stairs. More contact with her had distracted him from the fact that he still needed to use the bathroom. Now was as good a time as any. He’d return to her, and if she was gone, then so be it.

While relieving himself, he dissected the circumstances as he saw them. Upon initial contact, Bonnie was already in tears. Seeing her again on the stairs. Still in tears. Blue sky seemed to be peeking through the dark clouds, until bony bitchy blondie and her stud muffin showed up. Bonnie back to sobbing. The Sherlock in him said that the muffin and Bonnie were connected. Boyfriend? Well, ex-boyfriend by now. Obviously.

Hands washed, Andrew exited the bathroom, shaking his head at the shitty situation she was in. He ventured toward the stairs with a fresh beer in hand, expecting her to be gone. Nope, there she was, in the same position as he’d left her. Angling for his vacated seat again, he instead stood above her, looking down on her heaving body.

Andrew then proceeded to plop down right next to her. Close enough that they were touching. Shoulder-to-shoulder, thigh-to-thigh. As she continued her weeping, he said quietly, “Y’know, Bonnie, you never did answer my question.” His right elbow took it upon itself to nudge her gently.

He was gone. The pressure was relieved, but she didn't feel much better as she realized that he had taken the brush with sympathy with him and she felt terribly empty. It didn't make it any easier for her to dry her tears, which was the minimum requirement for Bonnie to get up and leave the house with any chance of further embarrassment. At least Gwen was having fun.

I got me a Chrysler
It seats about 20
So hurry up and bring your jukebox money

In the following few minutes occasional footsteps passed her as she cowered on the stairs. Some were energetic, springing up quickly. Others methodically descended. The dull sounds of the party in all the rooms around her seemed to blare in her ears. Eventually a couple of minutes passed where no one seemed to notice her. Perhaps it was a good time to make her move, but Bonnie didn't quite have the strength summoned. She began to rub her palms on her thighs, working up the nerve. Were her eyelashes all sticky from tears? She needed just another minute.

Finally she inhaled deeply, preparing to stand. Then there were steps. She would let them pass to the basement below before standing in anonymity. They didn't pass. They stopped and crouched. It was Andrew. He had returned. New anxiety rose in Bonnie's chest as she had lost her anonymity. From the corner of her eye, she saw the bottle of beer hanging from the casual clench of his left hand, while his right side nudged up against her, he knee propped against hers. The contact sent heat tickling up from within her.

"Y'know, Bonnie, you never did answer my question."

"Which question?" she asked on a sharp nervous gasp. Her face lifted halfway but she still could not face him.

Prior to sitting next to her (some would point out he was practically on her lap, eventually), Andrew took note of how Bonnie rubbed both hands on her thighs. Probably mustering up the much needed energy to hightail it outta this shindig once and for all, he thought. There was no doubt in his mind that she would have preferred to already be away from the party house. Far, far away. Her body language and tears all but cemented this.

Not that she knew he was there, since Andrew was behind her and further up the stairs, but he would have gladly stepped aside to allow her exit. All she had to do was stand under her own power, thus proving her stability. When she didn’t for whatever reason, was when he decided to take action. In his muddled mind, sitting next to her counted as an action.

Anxious for the merest positive vibe from her, Andrew perked up when she sought confirmation about his question. “The question about whether I can get you anything,” he replied. “Y’know, like tissue or napkins, maybe a beer, or even water. Anything at all.”

And then it hit him like he’d been wearing a horse’s blinders all this time. Amendments were in order. “And, uh, maybe included in that “anything at all” bit of mine shoulda been, maybe I should just once and for all leave you alone,” Andrew stated dejectedly. Waiting for the incoming downstairs-seekers to pass, and he wobbly stood to wish her a good night.

“I, um, I’m really sorry you had such a shitty night at an awesome party, Bonnie,” he stated. “And I, uh,” – thoughts suddenly shifted to hockey practice and papers due and numbers to call – “and I’m sorry,” he lamely recovered.

Feeling no pain, he offered (unasked), “And seriously? I think it’s his fuckin’ loss. Not yours.” Another small amount of beer consumed, and he said, “I need to go find my friend, Kyle. I just hope he hasn’t fucked himself six times over.” Andrew laughed as he ever so slowly descended the remainder of stairs.

How did he know? Was he guessing? She didn't think that he could possibly tell just form Jordy passing by moments earlier. Perhaps people were talking - word was going around. It was all the more reason for her to make herself disappear. As she contemplated such new dread, Andrew withdrew his consoling embrace and stood and Bonnie was whisked hollow once again. His unexpected warmth and surreal tingle was gone as if too good to be true. She should have known in the first place that she wasn't worth the effort after all.

His right knee bent in his rugged jeans and his left foot lowered to the next step. Then methodically, his legs alternated in descent of the stairs until he neared the bottom. Bonnie clutched her knees close. She couldn't keep her jaw from chattering. As soon as his legs disappeared around the corner she'd get up and head straight out of there.

What a fuckin’ waste, he thought, while leaving Bonnie behind. On the one hand, Andrew felt like this was somehow abandoning her. But on the other hand, her sporadic responsiveness was borderline frustrating. Not that he could blame her entirely for that. In his neutral eyes, she was a mess. A broken heart tends to have that effect on some people, Bonnie clearly being one of them. Throw in some apparent humiliation, and that would always be a lethal combo.

Eager to see what kinda trouble Kyle may’ve gotten himself into, something on the fringes of his scrambled mind kept nagging him. Spinning on his heels, Andrew returned to the staircase. Luck was on his side as Bonnie had yet to not only extricate herself from the stairs, but the house as well.

Nearing her, he casually said, “Hey, Bonnie. Me again.” Hands jammed into his pockets, Andrew continued, “And, uh, I apologize for what I said earlier, about it being his loss.” He astutely chose to leave out the F-bomb. “I, um, had no right to say that. It’s just that if he dumped you for that bitchy blonde, then well, I dunno what he’s thinking.” By now, he was sitting next to her again.

“And I only call her bitchy cuz of the way she, uh, looked at you when they passed us not that long ago,” he clarified. “Not only is she a bony little thing, but she’s got no personality, too,” Andrew explained. With a laugh, he went on, “Oops, sorry, shouldn’t have said that either.”

Smiling despite the doom and gloom surrounding her, Andrew nudged her again. “Not to be a nag, but you, uh, still haven’t answered my question. Y’know, the same one I’ve asked you twice now.” He sipped from his half-filled beer. “Lemme know if you need me to ask it again.” Another nudge to Bonnie, while doing his best to avoid staring at her boobs, showcased his playful and lighthearted demeanor. They were, after all, still at a party.

He was gone. She calmed her breath and tried to relax before standing but she never got that far. Another pair of feet returned to the bottom of the stairs, yet they weren't another. They were Andrew's feet again. He wasn't gone after all. Was he lost? Maybe he'd had too much to drink. Bonnie certainly had.

"Hey, Bonnie. Me again."

He was back for her. Was he stupid? Were his standards low? he began to fumble some apology about Sienna - that bitch. Bonnie's jaw tightened at the thought of her and she forgot about herself for a brief moment. Then he went on to disparage her, as if she wasn't so attractive. Of course she was attractive. Sienna was a perfect hottie. Bonnie supposed that his lies were a sweet attempt at least. Maybe she was getting wrung out emotionally. She began to soften inside.

"Not to be a nag, but you, uh, still haven't answered my question."

"I want someone to curl me up and hide me," she finally whined quietly, giving in to the quivering emotion that Andrew was forcing out of her. She still couldn't look at him as she rocked restlessly with her arms wrapped around her knees. Inwardly, she scorned herself for being so weak.

Say what you will about Bonnie, but she sure was being patient with him. All this time he’d been near her, Andrew fully expected a venomous fuck off to leave her succulent lips. Perhaps he found this to be an encouragement of sorts. The real question was, an encouragement for what? As far as hitting on her goes, he clearly was getting nowhere, yet he stubbornly refused to walk away. First base? Ha! Not even close. He did know, however, that he wasn’t hitting on her, though to the casual observer, it looked as if he was.

That age-old scenario of boy comforts teary girl. Girl is touched and appreciative of boy’s attention to her. Girl wishes to show boy just how touched and appreciative she is. Boy and girl make out. Boy and girl fuck. Boy and girl never see each other again. Mission accomplished. Yeah, uh, no. Andrew didn’t lean that way, nor would he ever.

So what was all this about? Andrew asked himself on more than one occasion. He guessed (he was a little loopy after those beers) it had to do with the party and how Bonnie was the only one not having a good time. This bothered him, though he had to admit it was still none of his business. She seemed somewhat receptive to him, so that was a good sign at least. He thought he’d see this through the end, or until Kyle appeared and said it was time to go.

It came as no surprise to Andrew that Bonnie did not refute his assessment of the bony blonde. He had a mean suspicion that they weren’t exactly the best of friends, let alone just friends. That facial expression from bony all but confirmed it.

Like the sun struggling to burst through a cluster of dark clouds, and finally succeeding, Bonnie said, “I want someone to curl me up and hide me.” Success! Andrew triumphantly thought at her finally answering his question. Though really, there was little to celebrate about, since he felt like he was still on square one. What did that mean exactly? He got the hide me part, not so much the curl me up bit.

“Okay, Bonnie,” he stated, “I’m pretty sure I can hide you somewhere around here.” He rubbed his chin in thought, and then asked, “But, uh, how do I curl you up?”

"Okay, Bonnie, I'm pretty sure I can hide you somewhere around here, but, uh, how do I curl you up?"

Bonnie could only shrug as she thought of how it didn't matter. She didn't matter. No one would give her the cocoon that she desperately sought, the haven from her shame. No one would bother, not even he. Why would anyone? Why should she drag down all the fun that everyone else was having?

Upstairs there was a loud tumbling thump and a huge cheer went up to follow while downstairs the raucous basement choir continued on.

Don't want to be an American idiot
One nation controlled by the media
Information age of hysteria
It's calling out to idiot America

Andrew had never been the type to give up on something, or someone. True, right now he was just the backup goaltender on the school’s hockey team. He always believed that one day, he’d get his chance to shine between the pipes. And when that day arrived, he needed to make the most of it. He actually liked the coaching staff immensely, as the head coach was hard on them at times, but the man was always fair. Every now and then, he’d grant Andrew a start, wishing to keep his senses and reflexes sharp. His assistants were exactly the same way.

And so it was with Bonnie. He felt like he’d invested enough time and effort in his perhaps futile bid to see her cheer up. Or at the very least, to stop crying and not be so down in the dumps. Easy for him to say, he knew. Was this guy truly worthy of so much sorrow, and on public display, no less? So far, Bonnie’s appearance and lack of party enjoyment said yeah, he was.

While a loud thump with a massive cheer exploded from upstairs, the basement’s band remained in high gear. He wondered if Gwen was still “entertaining” everyone on drums. There was also no way for him to know if the band members had, by now, swapped out with other partiers. “I think that’s a Green Day song,” he said to no one in particular, already grooving on the familiar hit tune.

Having forsaken an explanation of curling her up, Bonnie offered, “Just hide then.” All righty, he thought, apparently satisfied with a little more to work with. “Okay, Bonnie,” he said while standing, his 6’4” frame now propped up against the wall opposite her. Andrew wanted to be sure she’d have enough room to stand on her own. This, of course, was under the assumption that she’d stand in the first place.

With his height and this new vantage point, Andrew enjoyed a bird’s-eye view of Bonnie’s copious cleavage as she figured out what to do next. Pleased at this fortuitous sneak-peek, though not wanting to linger too long, he looked away, and then said, “I noticed a balcony on the second floor, Bonnie. The fresh air and solitude from the crowd might do you some good.” He paused, running a hand over his short hair. “’Course, this also means you’ll actually have to get up and move, though,” he stated, curious to see if she could pull off such a monumental feat.